


Limit To Your Love

by brokendrums



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-16
Updated: 2012-05-16
Packaged: 2017-11-19 13:53:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/573968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brokendrums/pseuds/brokendrums
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p> Zayn loves Liam - he can't help not.  </p>
            </blockquote>





	Limit To Your Love

**Author's Note:**

> Title and lyrics from the song Limit To Your Love by Feist but the tone is more of the cover by James Blake.

_There's a limit to your love_

  
_Like a waterfall in slow motion_   


  
_There's a limit to your care_   


_So carelessly there_

  


Fingertips brush his back and he knows instantly. Warmth envelopes his neck as Liam's arm curls around him. Zayn fights the temptation to turn around, burrow his face into the crook of Liam's neck and just _inhale_. 

  
But he can't. He knows he can't. He's been trying to strengthen his resolve. Make himself ignore the musky scent of his cologne and everything that's just _Liam_ that lurks underneath. Ignore the shivers that his touch send down his back and the sparks that ignite in his stomach. His mind simultaneously kicks into hyper drive, aware of everything that Liam's doing around him but at the same time his muscles relax, as if he's melting into Liam's side. 

  
"You alright?" Liam asks him quietly. His head angles towards him, jaw dipped and eyebrows in a soft frown. There's concern but his lips are pulled up into a warm smile. He gives Zayn a squeeze, pads of his fingers pressing into his bicep and Zayn can nearly feel the heat of them through his leather jacket. 

  
"Yeah." Zayn smiles back. Throat clearing and eyes brightening as he realises where he is again. Even though it's nearly dark, girls spiral around them, whispering, whimpering but Zayn ignores them too as they push their way from the car. 

  
The foyer to the hotel is bright and cheerful. Everything clear glass and chrome. Plush cream sofas and vases of lilies that he's seen in every other hotel they've been in. Truth be told, Zayn has no idea where he is, pushed from hotel to hotel where time is worked out by if he's just had breakfast or lunch and how long he's got between interviews to sneak in a cigarette. Liam's arm is still slung around him, a careless gesture of friendship, when they get their key cards. Zayn takes his silently noting the room number and not much else. Niall and Harry are babbling on about something to his left and Louis is adding a comment here and there while focusing on his phone. Liam stays mostly silent. Manoeuvring them all towards the lifts and off to their rooms. 

  
Zayn tries not to think too hard. It gets more complicated when he thinks about it too much. He knows he shouldn't be feeling this way, his best friend has absolutely no interest in him like that and Zayn knows that that should be ok. Except it isn't really. His fingers twist in Liam's jumper as they exit the lift and walk down the golden corridor, cream walls and beige carpet making him even more aware that they're nowhere near home. 

  
"Sweet dreams." Liam grins at him, soft eyes and shallow laugh lines. 

  
"Night Li." Zayn smiles back at him, letting his arm fall to his side as Liam twists out of the embrace and walks a few doors down until he gets to his room. 

  
*

  
He knows he should stop. Stop the pining and the day dreaming. But he doesn't. He goes to sleep with thoughts that he would be embarrassed to tell anyone out loud. His heart swells as he imagines all sorts of scenarios and he lies awake as he plots them out, one by one in his head. 

  
Hand holding as they walk in the park that's just round the corner from their flats in London. Sharing ice cream from that one shop Liam loves so much and ducking into a shop doorway to escape the rain. 

  
Sunday dinner in Bradford with his mum and his sisters, their hands hooked together under the kitchen table and giggling with each other as they try to eat one handed. His mum shooting knowing looks over the rim of her wine glass.

  
Liam tapping on his door and slipping into his bed in the middle of the night, toes cold as they press against Zayn's shins but his fingertips making him shiver for a completely different reason. 

  
Whispers in his ear as they sit in a dressing room somewhere. The other boys either oblivious or desperately jealous of them as they lie on a sofa, legs tangled and warm weights by each other's side.

  
Some nights he can hardly sleep. He's exhausted, worn out by a show or a day full of publicity but his little nightly ritual keeps him awake. Sometimes he can't remember where he's left off in his little make believe story and he claws at his mind to try and remember, spinning through moments between them that only happened in his imagination. Other times it comes back to him quickly and it's so familiar that it nearly tricks him into believing its really true. His eyes slip closed and he grins to himself, warm and content, sliding happily into dreams where Liam's always by his side. But it doesn't matter really. Because in the morning - Zayn is always alone in his bed. 

  
*

  
He knows that he's elevating Liam up on to another level. In his eyes, Liam can do very few things wrong. He watches as Louis argues and Harry glares and Niall stays stonily silent. Watches as Liam snaps back or defends himself or admits that he's done wrong. All the while Zayn is internally defensive. Of course Liam didn't cut Harry off on purpose, he never meant to criticise Louis or upset Niall. Blind sighted by his feelings for Liam he regularly dismisses the others grievances and almost always takes Liam’s side.  At the back of his mind Zayn knows he's being unfair to the rest of them. They're all his best friends and he loves them to pieces but in those rare moments he sees nothing but an attack on Liam and for those seconds, minutes and hours that they've all fell out, it makes him hate them. 

  
When they've all kissed and made up, squeezing hugs and sprawling limbs over couch cushions, Zayn feels intense guilt. He wonders as Niall giggles into his shoulder and Harry pulls him into an easy hug how he could ever feel that way towards them. He loves them all so much and couldn't imagine ever being without them. It's like a moment of clarity where he realises how deep the hole he's dug is. He hates himself for it. It's changed him where he's always been determined to stay true to himself. He makes wild promises - to take a step back - to never wish a hurtful thought upon one of the others - to stop loving Liam. And he believes them, knows he has the strength to carry them through, knows that this time it will work. 

  
But it doesn't.

  
Liam grins at him across the room. A hand on the back of his neck as they leave the stage. Thighs pressed together as they answer for the fiftieth time this week just exactly how Simon Cowell put the band together. His internal monologue playing out to him behind his eyelids as he falls asleep at night.

  
And he's back to square one. Down that hole with another shovel. 

  
*

  
Zayn loves when they're on tour the best. He misses home and his mum and his best friend. He misses his own teabags and his own bed. He misses the rain and seeing the Queen on all his bank notes. He misses the accent and the ability to walk down the street without a burly security guard. He misses a time without management telling him what to do and where he doesn't have to spend twenty four hours a day with the rest of them. He misses being able to hear without the ringing of screams in his ear and when his vision wasn't obscured by the white bright flashes of cameras. 

  
He misses all these things but he still loves it because she's not there. 

  
They land back in London on a Thursday. The sky is grey and it makes Zayn smile. The air is cold and there's a faint scent of rain. He has to pull his jacket closer to him as they walk towards the car. He's exhausted, months of touring catching up to him. His patience is being tried by Louis, who is still singing some annoying tune in his ear and has been since they were in Australia. But he's so happy to be home. Liam is walking beside him, speaking to Niall about something that Zayn isn't really all that interested in. But he listens to Liam's voice all the same, it's smooth like honey and warm like wool. He wants to roll around in the words and let them soak through his skin and into his bones. He sticks close to his side as they follow Louis and Harry out of the terminal. Liam suddenly breaks off mid sentence and his voice turns louder, happier, excited. 

  
"Danielle." He grins, his smile is nearly splitting his face and it's the happiest Zayn has seen in him days. Danielle appears from no where just as they reach the van. Niall grins at her and jumps into the car behind Harry. Zayn feels likes his legs are frozen. Liam beams at her, completely disregarding that they're in the middle of a crowded airport car park and that Zayn is inches from him. He sweeps her up and pulls her into a kiss. Zayn turns away then. He tortures himself everyday with this imaginary love affair but that's a step too far. He doesn't need to see that. Jealousy wells in his stomach as he climbs in beside Louis, the laughter of the other two still outside ringing in his ears.  She's beautiful, sweet and she makes Liam incredibly happy. He wishes she wasn't there and she makes him extremely jealous but he just can't push himself to hate her. And that's what hurts the most.

  
His mattress is cold when he slides into it. His suitcases lie opened in his hallway, clothes spilling out onto the carpet from where he’s rooted around to find a jumper that belongs to Liam. He hasn't bothered to turn on any of his lights, instead he pulls the jumper over his shirt and crawls into his bed nearly fully clothed, jumper bunched up around his chin so he can smell _him_. He wants to cry. He wants a hug. He wants his mum. He remembers how he used to steal one of his sister's ridiculously pink and flowery covered hot water bottles during the winter to make his bed warm and cosy before he went to sleep. He would always wake the next morning to a very annoyed sister asking him if he was PMSing and that she was, so she would like her water bottle back thank you very much. Zayn would cringe muttering something about too much information for a thirteen year old boy but for his next birthday they chipped in and bought him his very own heartshaped one - complete with a fuzzy lilac cover. He had blushed when he had unwrapped it and told them to stop taking the piss but he hugged it every night until the sweltering heat of June kicked off the summer. He had left it behind when he moved to London, fearing that the boys would all find out in the chaos of the room they all shared and it had since been lost. Pulling the covers around him tightly, Zayn wished for the first time in months that he could clutch it to himself now, letting the soothing heat soak into his chest. He tried to focus on those memories, willing himself to fall asleep. But his mind didn't work like that. It slipped so easily back to Liam - his Liam - the one in his dreams, where Danielle doesn't exist and he doesn't need a hot water bottle because Liam's there to keep him warm. 

  
*

  
He's blowing rings of blue grey smoke into the air when Harry confronts him. 

  
They've been home a few weeks. He's been to see his mum and let her hug the life out of him. She doesn't ask the reason behind his tears, only acknowledging them with the pads of her thumbs as she brushes them away. She mollycoddles him and he hasn't eaten so well since Christmas. His sisters tease him and pester him and it's all so familiar that he finds it hard to leave. He goes back to London and lets Louis whisk him away to some club every night. He drinks to forget about the mess he's got himself into and let's strangers kiss him in the middle of dance floors. He forgets their names and deletes their numbers from his phone. He walks the few he lets into his bed to the door in the morning before letting Niall nurse his hangover with cartoons and sugary cereal. 

  
"Are you going to stop this?" Harry asks plainly and sits down on the battered bench beside him. London sprawls out in front of them. It's nearly dark, street lights beginning to burn orange and the air cooling around them. 

  
"Stop what?" Zayn asks nonchalantly. He knows he's not being subtle. It's hard to hide everything in a group so close as they all are. That knowledge burns in his veins because following that logic it means that Liam isn't oblivious to it either. 

  
"Torturing yourself like this," Harry tells him. His voice is soft and sincere and if Zayn wasn't feeling so conflicted and sorry for himself he would've thought it was sweet. But in reality Zayn hates him for it. He wants to kick into defensive mode and tell him to mind his own business. Instead he takes another drag from a cigarette and waits. 

  
"Can't you see what you're doing to yourself?" Harry asks, finally there's a bite to his tone. "You're tearing yourself apart." 

  
Zayn snorts and shakes his head. Behind them, through the glass, he can hear laughter as the others mess around. Harry stares at him wide eyed and slack jawed. Zayn knows he doesn't really understand. He can't stop whatever he's doing because if he worries and pines and hurts for days there will be a hug or a smile at the end of it all to make it all worth it. 

  
"Please," Harry begs. His voice is low and small. Buried under his intense stare and heavy heart. His fingers curl around Zayn's sleeve as he looks pleadingly at him. "Please Zayn." 

  
Zayn stares at the knuckles wrapped around his wrist before he glances up. Harry looks so young and desperate. The cigarette in his hand is burning low, he can feel the heat of the tip close to his fingerd so he drags his gaze away from Harry and takes a final pull from it before flicking it off the balcony. He holds the smoke in his lungs for a moment before exhaling, quirking his mouth to make it billow out of his mouth in rings. Harry makes a choked noise deep in his throat that nearly sounds like a sob but Zayn ignores him, watching as the rings widen until they are just wisps of grey in the blackening night. 

  
*

  
Zayn sort of imagines that this is what being addicted to drugs is like. He doesn't really know, he's never really done hard drugs. A few pills at parties but that's about it. He's certainly never been addicted to anything stronger than nicotine or diet coke. He's sure he's probably offending proper addicts out there when he thinks like this but he's passed caring if he’s giving into a cliché.

  
They go off to record songs for the next album and Zayn relishes in the opportunity to spend time with Liam away from his girlfriend. He's all fresh and relaxed from his holiday and Zayn tries not to think that she made him that way. He's giggly again and his laughter lifts Zayn's spirits higher than anything before. He pulls him into his side as they wait their turn in the studio and runs his fingers through his hair when they watch a movie in his hotel room at night. Niall tries to get him to join in with some of the song writing but he doesn't want to leave Liam's side, staring at him through the glass as he sings. He watches his throat move and listens to his voice, twisting words on the page into something so new and exciting. 

  
He's paranoid of Harry. Always catching him staring at him, a pleading glint permanently in his eye hidden behind something Zayn doesn‘t really understand. Zayn avoids him. He knows its petty but avoiding the subject is much more pleasant than confronting it. Instead he turns to Liam, craving his touch when he's not there, itching to touch his skin when he is. He slips back into his dreams and the stories Zayn concocts before he goes to sleep are more elaborate than ever. Sometimes he has to check himself, forgetting that some things Liam does to him only exist in his head. The two worlds blur and a part of Zayn is eager to let them. When Liam smiles at him it makes him giddy, sometimes they feel so small and intimate and aimed only at him that he blushes and looks around to make sure that no one else noticed.

  
They go to a club in Stockholm. They all do shots and giggle into each other as someone buys them another round. Half the music is in a foreign language but Zayn doesn't care. It's got a beat and he drags Liam out into the middle of the dance floor. Liam laughs at him as they spin around together and let the other dancers press against them. It's all bright flashy lights and he can't hear anything except for the thump of bass and his own heartbeat. He takes a breath, the tequila catching up to him. Liam grins at him, his lips shiny from the beer he‘s been sipping for the last hour. It’s that same small smile that he'd been shooting him all day in the studio and Zayn’s heart flutters. A hand comes to rest on his hip as the dance floor gets more crowded and out of the corner of his eye he can vaguely make out a shock of familiar blond hair pushing through people to reach them. He edges up against Liam, who laughs again and cants his hip to the beat. There's that familiar spark in Zayn's gut and he doesn't think much more about it, pressing forward. Lips meeting Liam's. He tastes of tequila and Zayn thinks he's going to die as Liam's soft lips brush against his. His stomach flips and he can't stop the mantra in his head. _This is it, this is it, this is it_.

  
But it isn't. 

  
Hands land on his shoulders, heavy and tight. He’s pushed back a few inches and then a whole foot as Liam takes a step back. His eyes are wide, shocked, hurt. Zayn's stomach drops as he stares back at him. Somehow over the music he can hear the others around him.

  
"Oh my God." 

  
"What the fuck." 

  
"Oh shit." 

  
Liam doesn't say anything, fury replacing the shock in his eyes and Zayn feels like he's been wounded. He instantly knows he's made a mistake. Misread the signs and allowed the alcohol to encourage his fantasy along. He opens his mouth to speak but before he can utter a word, Liam turns on his heel and disappears into the crowd. Niall dashes after him, Louis following in his wake as Harry lunges to pull Zayn's arm over his shoulder and lead him off the dance floor. 

  
"Shit," Zayn croaks once they've made it outside. The air is crisp and clear and it makes his head hurt. He sways on his feet and clutches at Harry as they stagger down the street. They have absolutely no idea where they're going but Zayn doesn't care about that now. All he can see is Liam's face, the disgust that flashed in his eyes before he disappeared. 

  
"Shit," Zayn murmured again, unable to form anything else coherent.

  
"It'll be fine," Harry reassures him and finally they come across a taxi rank. "It'll all be ok. Zayn, are you listening to me. It's going to be ok. We all love you. I love you. Zayn, I promise you. I love you." Zayn doesn't answer, doesn't make any expression to show that he even heard what Harry had said. Harry bundles him into the back seat, hand smoothing over his shoulders and up to grip his neck, pulling him onto his shoulder and into a hug. Zayn shakes his head, nose brushing against the lapel of Harry's blazer, vision going cloudy and as the car starts down the road he realises he's crying.

  
"Shit."

  
*

  
It's not talked about the next day. Zayn wakes up with Harry attached to him. Curls buried into his neck and long limbs curled around him in a tight hold. It takes a moment, a blissful minute where Zayn forgets, before it all comes back to him. The taste of tequila still at the back of his throat and his eyes sore from his crying. Liam's horrified face appears when he blinks and he needs to untangle himself from Harry quickly so he can make it to the bathroom in time to be sick. He retches a second time when Harry kneels down behind him, arms reaching out steady him and soothe his back. There's nothing left in his stomach and he falls back, exhausted, against Harry's chest and lets him hug him. 

  
"It's ok," Harry murmurs against the back of his ear as his hands circle around him and smooth over his chest and rub at his stomach. "Everything is going to be ok." 

  
Zayn goes through the day in a bit of a daze. The nausea doesn't really leave him and he has to bite his lip to stop him from throwing up when he meets the rest of them in the foyer. Niall and Louis greet him with an over enthusiastic  'hello!' but Liam just surveys him and stays silent. They don't speak at all during the recording session and if some of the producers notice the tense atmosphere they don't mention it. Zayn skips dinner and goes back to his hotel room not even bothering to make up a plausible excuse. Harry traipses behind him and looks hurt when Zayn tells him to leave him alone. Zayn just slams his door, frustrated because he's fucked up another thing, packing his suitcase angrily to relieve the tension in his shoulders. His stomach rumbles constantly and he checks his phone every three minutes but no one contacts him all night. He falls asleep just before dawn, everything that he's done wrong and wishes he could change swimming around his head. 

  
*

  
Liam corners him in the bathroom at the airport the next afternoon. Harry had been a little standoffish but still slipped into the seat beside him in the car on the way there so Zayn knew that he wasn't really angry at Zayn's behaviour but Liam had still ignored him the whole journey. They were boarding in ten minutes and Zayn decided to use the time to escape Louis and Niall's pitying glances and go to the bathroom. Face to face with Liam though, he wasn't sure he made the right decision. 

  
"I don't want to go home with all this hanging over us," Liam tells him. Straight to the point. Zayn nods, unable to speak yet. He presses his hip into the metallic sink and pretends that it's not keeping him standing. 

  
"I've thought it over," Liam starts, his eyes are hard and there's no hint of a smile on his face but he doesn't look as angry as Zayn expected. "And I think we should just forget all about. It‘s just something mad that happened in Sweden and that‘s it." 

  
Zayn had been expecting it but it still made his stomach drop and eyes burn. 

  
"I have a girlfriend," Liam sighs and runs his hand through his hair frustrated. "Who I love and you like." 

  
He turns and looks at him expectantly, as if daring him to disagree. Zayn nods his ascent, he still can't find a legitimate fault with Danielle. Liam looks more frustrated than ever and he steps to the side and begins to pace the small space between the stalls and the sinks. 

  
"I keep going over it in my head. Just trying to think if I've been leading you on. If I've been sending out some sort of signal that made you think different. Zayn I love you as a friend, you're my best friend and I don't want to hurt you but I'm straight. I don't love you like that. I am so sorry but I just don't." Zayn keeps his gaze trained on the blank white tiles of the floor. Liam's words are swirling around his head, settling into his chest and stomach. He doesn't think he's ever heard anything so devastating yet so true in his life. He had known all this all along. 

  
"Have I Zayn?" Liam asks suddenly, stepping forward so Zayn can see his toes. He shakes his head and closes his eyes. 

  
"I'm so sorry," Liam repeats and the genuine apologetic sympathy in his voice makes him want to cry. Liam steps forward, wrapping an arm around him and pulling him close to his chest. Zayn tries not to sink into the welcoming warmth but can’t help it. He pulls a hand up to slip between Liam’s shoulder blades and clutches him to him.  

  
"I don't want anything to change," Liam whispers into Zayn's hair. "Please, don't let this ruin us." 

  
Zayn shakes his head, letting the tears seep out onto Liam's shoulder and soak into the fabric of his shirt. 

  
"Are you going to say something?" Liam asks quietly. The door opens abruptly and they both look up. Niall is standing sheepishly in the doorway.

  
"Our flight was called. We're boarding now," He tells them, eye flicking between them before he slips away, door banging on the way out. Liam looks around and tips Zayn's chin up with his finger to look at him properly, red eyes and all. Zayn forces a smile on his lips. 

  
"I'm sorry," Liam tells him for the third time. 

  
"Stop apologising." Zayn's voice sounds thick and so sluggish, it's nearly slurred but it doesn't matter. Liam's face softens and Zayn pulls him into another hug because he can't not. "It's my fault." He murmurs into Liam's shoulder. "It won't happen again. I promise." 

  
Liam sort of gives him a jerky nod and they stand awkwardly for a moment before the door bangs open again and Louis glares at them.

  
"Alright, now you're friends again can we please go?" He asks them, shoving Zayn's carry on bag at him. "Paul is flipping out and thinks we're gonna miss this plane." 

  
Liam laughs and Zayn's heart gives a betraying flutter as they leave the bathroom. He ignores Harry's enquiring eyes as the others  
gather the rest of their luggage before setting off towards the gate. Liam falls into step with him, a tentative smile on his face and Zayn knows that this is his attempt at going back to normal. 

  
He knows that he shouldn't love him. And that the love will never be returned. But he doesn't think it will ever really go away. 

  
_All the trouble that you give me_   


_I know that only I can save me_

  
_There's no limit_   


_Limit to my love_

  



End file.
